


Even the Stars

by Still_Always_Dreaming



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Sam Wilson, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Still_Always_Dreaming
Summary: Hera Noon had a one-night stand, a night to forget her woes, but now her world is turned upside down. Steve Rogers wants this feisty minx back in his arms, but she is proving to be even more stubborn than he is. Their life is now under scrutiny by the press and now both must try and navigate their lives while learning that maybe a night of passion can become more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovelies! I've been working on this story for a while and decided to go ahead and start posting while I'm a few chapters ahead. I hope you all enjoy and please leave a review and tell me what you think!

_"I still hold onto a small childish hope that there's someone out there in this crazy, wild world so completely, utterly meant for me even the stars with sigh, 'at last!', in relief at our meeting."_

_-Beau Taplin_

* * *

''_Toto…I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,'' _Hera thought as she groggily blinked open her dry scratchy eyes and glanced around her unfamiliar surroundings.

Her head was pounding, her mouth dry, and her entire body ached. It was a normal feeling after a night of drinking, but she couldn't help but to register everything else that was _not _normal as she gradually woke up. The plush mattress underneath her did not belong to her, she didn't own the silky-soft blankets tucked around her, and the fluffy pillow under her head felt like a marshmallow.

Hera was also naked and there was someone spooning her.

She finally blinked the sleep out of her dark eyes, squinted around blearily, and felt her heart drop. Just as she feared, she was not in her home.

With the soft light creeping from under the curtains, the young woman could make out the outline of a dresser, nightstand topped with a small simple lamp that was switched off, and a closed door which she assumed was the closet. Another door leading to the bathroom was cracked an inch. The dark blue curtains were drawn tight over the window, something her stinging eyes were grateful for, and the beige walls were bare. The room seemed larger than her entire apartment and she stared around the room a bit longer trying to place her surroundings but failing. She uncurled her legs in a stretch, her muscles deliciously sore, and her grogginess dissipated between one heartbeat and the next. Hera turned her face to bury it in the white fluffy pillow to hide her groan as she realized what her situation was. A soft snore had her tensing as she remembered that she was currently being aggressively spooned by a stranger.

A heavy arm was draped across her wide hips covered by the blankets, warm breath brushing against loose strands of her long black hair, and a hard body was pressed tight against her back. The man, and it was clearly a man by the feeling of _something _pressing insistently into her lower back, was thankfully still deep asleep. His big body was warm, pumping out heat like a furnace, and she was half tempted to fall back asleep. Confusion helped her wake up, though, and she racked her brain trying to remember what happened the night before. All she got was a headache. She reached up to rub a hand over her face, hoping to wake herself a little more, and held in a sigh. Still trying to remember, she glanced down her body, and saw the man's strong bicep curled around her and his long fingers tangled in the blankets.

Vague memories started to bubble up to the surface, now that she was fully awake and staring more clearly at her unintentional roommate, and she could barely hold back a grimace. She had gone out the night previous in a sad attempt to take her mind off work, seeing as she had no plans the following day or the rest of the night, and had brashly decided maybe she should and get back into the dating game. She may have already been tipsy at that point. She stumbled across a man at the bar, tucked away into the corner so he was barely visible, and deemed him safe enough for harmless flirting. He had been almost shy at first, looking at her with worried bright blue eyes, but his concern changed to amusement when she unloaded her long stressful day's events. He almost looked grateful when she was honest, if maybe a little crass, with him and what she was looking for that night. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if he wasn't sure to be amused or worried at her sad attempts at flirting, that made her decide to put out all the stops to convey to him they should _totally_ hook up together.

It started out as a game, her making horrible pick-up lines to see if she could get a reaction, which led him to awkwardly do the same. A harmless game that left them laughing into hands to stifle the noise, leaning close to each other when they got odd looks from the other patrons, and she didn't remember when their game went from _'harmless' _to _'serious'_. Hera had eventually told him what she was looking for, a night to be close with someone without having to do much thinking and gave him the option for her to stop or leave. He didn't make her do either. Hera got the impression that he almost seemed just as desperate for human contact, for the intimacy shared between two people, as much as she was. She figured they both were looking for something in each other that night. She then recalled, sometime later in the night, the way they stumbled into an apartment while keeping their lips locked together as hands roamed.

Everything went lopsided and fuzzy after that.

She dimly remembers him checking constantly if she was sure, if she just wanted to go to bed instead, and she remembered dragging him down to the mattress with her. Hera squeezed her eyes shut, mentally berating herself for her impulsiveness, and slowly turned her head to glance at the man over her shoulder. She finally got a good look at the man who had flirted back with her shyly despite her coaching him in a game of _'pick-up'_. He had fair skin, a strong sharp jaw, and a straight aristocratic nose. Golden hair stuck up in multiple directions, impossibly long lashes brushing against high cheekbones, and plush pink lips added a boyish look to his handsome features. She noted his broad shoulders and thick biceps partially hidden from where the thick white blankets were buddle around them both.

He was a prime example of a man in his prime and she had to lay her head back down to stop her head from spinning.

'_This is not good…so not good,'_ she thought as her heart started to steadily pick up pace.

Coming to the decision to leave before he woke up, she didn't need any awkward small talk, Hera steeled herself after a few moments of mental pep talk. She ever-so-slowly slid from under the man's arm, keeping an eye on his sleeping face, and eventually she slid to the floor. The shock of the cold wooden floors had her biting back a curse. She gently bundled the blankets under his arm, hoping to keep him fooled, and slowly stood up. Her aching muscles protested, a few joints popping, and the warm air brushing against her bare skin had her located her clothes in a heap by the bedroom door and quietly tugged them on with her eyes glued to the still sleeping man.

'_He looks so peaceful,'_ she thought, noticing the way his big shoulders rose and fell with each breath, and the relaxed expression he wore.

Once Hera was dressed, her shredded undergarments tucked into her knapsack she used as a purse with a sigh, and she grabbed her brown slouch boots. She couldn't help but notice the empty water bottles littering the floor, next to what looked like protein bar wrappers, and spotted more empty wrappers in the wastepaper basket by the large bed. A small flair of guilt burned in the pit of her stomach at the clear sight of their _'midnight snack'_, but then he made a soft noise in the back of his throat and she was halfway down the hallway. Her bare feet didn't make a sound as she crept to the front door, not bothering to look around the rest of the apartment, and she eased the door open. She finally sighed in relief once the door closed behind her.

Hera slipped on her shoes and took the stairs two at a time. Once she made it to the lobby, ignoring the strange looks she got from the receptionist, she bolted out the door into the cool autumn air. She ran as fast as she could, her sore muscles complaining and sensitive eyes stinging in the dim light of approaching dawn, but the panic budding in her chest at the prospect of being chased increased with each step kept her going. She pushed past people already milling around despite the early hour, some squawking in indignation and others openly gaping at her, and she knew she must've look like a mess. Her black hair slapped against her lower back and face in a tangled curly mess, the stale scent of alcohol lingering on her wrinkled clothes, and she could only guess what her face looked like.

'_First thing…take a shower, second…get a check-up,'_ she thought as she took a sharp turn and almost plowed into a glaring passerby.

Hera always prided herself on keeping a level head, even during the times when she wanted nothing more than to stop thinking about everything so much, and the sudden lapse in judgment could mean disastrous results for her.

Especially since drunken one-night stands usually didn't take into consideration little things like protection. She finally turned onto a street that looked familiar. A few more turns and she was finally trudging up the creaking stairs of her apartment. She wheezed and grumbled the entire way to her door, still scolding herself, before reaching the door to her home. She shoved open the front door, the old hinges squealing in protest, and the sticking door jamb creaked ominously. The stale smell of mothballs and mildew had her wrinkling her nose.

"River?" she whispered loudly, closing the door with of her foot as she tried to catch her breath, and her anxiety only heightened when she didn't get an answer from her young daughter.

"River?" Hera said again, more loudly this time, and she stumbled her way towards the back rooms.

She pushed open her daughter's door, dark eyes scanning the small room almost frantically, and realization struck her when she spotted her toys strewn across the floor.

"Right…sleepover," she said with a loud sigh, relief washing through her, and she sagged against the doorframe. She honestly wouldn't know what to say if River had been home, no doubt worried when she hadn't been home the night before, and she silently thanked River's school friends for whatever party they threw. She stumbled back towards the kitchen, her heart finally beginning to slow to a normal rhythm, and Hera took a deep steady breath. She cracked a window, trying to get some fresh air into the room, and she let the cold breeze calm her frazzled nerves.

'_What a morning,'_ she thought to herself as she turned to walk towards the kitchen.

Hera glanced around as she kicked her boots off under the table. The dingy apartment was cramped, the yellowed paint was peeling off the walls, and stained linoleum cracked. She closed her dark eyes and easily pictured the rest of the apartment. Thinning carpet, third-hand furniture, the rumpled mess of her blankets on her bed from where she decided it wasn't worth the energy to fix, and water damage on the ceiling of the small bathroom. The walls were thin enough to hear her neighbors shout drunkenly at each other and she has installed her own deadbolt with a lock and chain for good measure. It was the only thing she could afford now, and she counted down the days until she could move and raise River somewhere better. Shaking herself, she peeled off her clothes as she wandered past her bedroom into the small bathroom, and dimly wondered if the man had woken up to an empty bed yet.

"Don't think about it, Hera," she chided herself, turning on the shower, and looked over her body in the chipped mirror over the equally chipped sink as the water heated.

The detailed tattoo of Medusa, with dark snakes curling around her beautiful but stern face, depicted on her upper bicep and shoulder looked menacing under the dull lighting. Hand-shaped bruises were pressed into the pale fleshy skin of her hips and thighs, hickies seemed to litter every inch of her body, and she felt herself blush at the intimate marks. Her silver piercing in both nipples caught the light as she continued looking over herself, making her remember the man's fascination with them when he finally got her naked, but she forced herself to push those memories aside. She took out the simple silver stud earrings from her triple pierced ears, massaging the sore lobes, and she placed her knapsack on the sink to fish out her ruined undergarments. The black lace was in shreds and she sighed morosely as she tossed them in the trash under the sink. She was about to hop in her shower, the water now warmed enough, when her phone chimed with a message.

She dug around until she pulled out her phone, a frown curling her lips as it chimed again, and saw it was her friend, Poppy. The phone let out three more consecutive beeps before Hera could read the messages. Her eyes immediately found the picture of the news article, the title cropped out to fit the picture better, and a sudden sick feeling twisted in her gut. It was a picture of her, from last night, wrapped around the blond man. Her face was slightly obscured by her long curly hair, and from the man's broad shoulders where he dwarfed her five-foot-two-inch frame, but she could tell it was her. The next photo was of the headline.

'_Not so noble,' _it read, making her frown deepen, and she read the next message which was a link to the actual article.

As her dark eyes scanned the words of the article, they widened until she knew they were bugging out her head, and she felt her heart start pounding in her chest again. Her headache worsened as her thoughts raced, trying to stitch together the events of the night before, and panic had her hands trembling until she had to put the phone down. Apparently, her one-night stand wasn't as innocent as she thought. Someone had taken a picture of them when they were leaving the bar, they had been wrapped around each other as they kissed, debating on whose apartment to go to. His had been closer and the paparazzi took advantage of their _inattention_.

They took _her _picture because, unknown to her, she was making out with _Captain -_fucking-_America._

She slept with Captain America and now it was splashed across every news station and magazine outlet because he didn't find it important to tell her who he was_._

"That son of a_ bitch_!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“You’re an idiot…a loveable idiot, but still an idiot,” Hera’s friend muttered, sounding both concerned and amused, and Hera slouched further into the passenger seat of the car.

She watched as buildings and people passed by in a blur and halfheartedly drummed her long black fingernails against the door handle.

“Don’t remind me,” she mumbled morosely, wishing for the hundredth time that the ground would swallow her up, and heard a soft snort.

Poppy Mercier glanced over at her with a raised dark blue eyebrow. Her pale blue eyes, emphasized by her dark smoky eye make-up, were sparkling with amusement, pixie features bright with curiosity, and Hera braced herself for the inevitable question. It was almost a week since she woke up in _Captain America_’s bed, naked and panicked, and her life had become a whirlwind. She had set up an appointment at the local clinic for a full check-up, her best friend basically interrogating her when Hera asked for a ride, and now Poppy was nearly bursting with questions that she had held back so far.

Hera was beyond exhausted, irritated, and in desperate need of a nap. Of course, she couldn’t put all the blame on her friend for irritability. She was the one who had a one-stand with Captain America and she was the one whose face had been blown up on every social media site and news channel. Thankfully, no one seemed to realize it was Hera in the picture, so she was able to continue with her normal schedule. She did, however, see a few people giver her double takes or squint at her. Poppy had tried to grill her for information, but seemed to realize how frazzled Hera was, and kept _most_ of her comments to herself.

It was the little things she was grateful for.

“So…are you going to meet back up with him?” Poppy asked casually and Hera had to applaud her for how long she had stayed quiet.

Hera picked at a loose threat on her snug plum colored turtleneck dress before picking at the seam of her black velvet thigh high heeled boots. Hera rolled her eyes, scowling at her friend, but she didn’t admit how much she was tempted to reach out. The memory of his bright blue eyes flashed behind her lids every time she closed her eyes, the phantom touch of his hands invaded her restless dreams, and she found herself constantly in a state of daydreaming as she pictured their reunion. Then again, she wondered how many people claimed they slept with a member of the _Avengers _and figured she probably wouldn’t be believed if she did try to contact him. Not like her pride would let her do that anyways.

“I wouldn’t even know how,” she muttered, more to herself, but her friend answered anyways.

“Didn’t catch his address? Or phone number” Poppy continued with a shrug of her dainty shoulders and Hera glared at her friend.

Her dark blue hair was twisted into a perfectly styled messy twin buns, her deep green cable knit sweater was molded to her slender build and dark jeans emphasized her long legs. She was tall, with delicate features, and willowy limbs, but the black metal hoop through her septum, bold eye make-up, and another dark hoop in the center of her lower lip and more running up both her ears added a slight edge to her dainty appearance. The young woman had the personality of a wildfire. Strong, resilient, warming, and can turn deadly with the slightest change of the wind. Hera counted herself lucky to have her as a friend.

“No, I didn’t catch his number, Poppy. I was _preoccupied_,” she said, a little miffed, and received a side-eye from her friend.

A sly grin curled her dusty rose painted lips.

“Only preoccupied or _preoccupied_…,” she trailed off with a wink and Hera’s face burned in embarrassment.

“I hate you,” she growled, turning back to the window with a huff, and Poppy cackled.

Truth be told, Hera’s memory during that time was still a little fuzzy, and she had stayed awake for days until the early hours trying to recall anything else that would help the sudden heaviness in her chest whenever she thought of the man.

“You okay?” Poppy asked quietly, dragging Hera back to the present, and she realized that she was nervously twisting the hem of her dress in her hands.

she slapped her hands to her lap with a scowl.

“I don’t need to speak with him. Everyone already thinks he has some torrid secret lover and I don’t need to add anything more to that,” she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone that she hated, and Poppy glanced over at her thoughtfully.

“Would it be so terrible?” her friend asked after a moment of quiet, now completely serious, and the young woman stared back at her reflection.

When Hera was younger, she had dreamed of finding a man to love her and of starting a big happy family, but as she grew older that dream got pushed down. Her home life went downhill once her father remarried, they kicked her out soon after and she had slowly become jaded by the world she had been left to survive in. It didn’t help that she already had a daughter, the light of her life, but most people didn’t want that extra _‘baggage.’ _River’s own father didn’t want to deal with the prospect of fatherhood. A headache formed in the back of her skull at her thoughts, old wounds causing her to grit her teeth against the wave of _hurt_, and she quickly shook her head. She doubted that the Avenger would want Hera once he learned the truth about her and her rather dismal life.

“I’m not exactly _‘proper’ _girlfriend material, Poppy,” she replied while letting her dark eyes flick over her features from her reflection.

Dark eyes lined with a modest, but sharp winged eyeliner under black furrowed brows. Her normally pale face was pink from the cold, full lips painted a dark plum color, and her long dark hair was left down to curl at her lower back. She thought to her tattoo and her piercings, her squishy middle and thighs that jiggled whenever she walked, before thinking back to the strong muscular build of the Captain.

_‘He deserves someone more normal looking,” _she thought as her mood plummeted, but her eyes caught the reflection of her friend’s glare.

Poppy aimed a sharp punch at her arm, but she was horrible at hand-eye-coordination, and instead Hera was left clutching her breast.

“What the hell!” she hissed, rubbing the abused flesh, and Poppy stopped at a red light before turning to her with a frown.

“You are an amazing woman _and _a total knockout! Anyone would be lucky to have you,” she said sternly, pointing a finger tipped with metallic blue nail polish at her, and Hera felt a smile threaten to curl her lips at her friend’s words.

“Thank you, Lollipop…but was the tit-punch necessary?” she grouched, a small grin stretching across her face, and Poppy sniffed haughtily.

“Yes. Besides, you got enough cushion,” she said while cupping her own slender chest.

Hera laughed, feeling her dark mood lighten at her friend’s antics, and poked her in the ribs.

“Okay, whatever. Now, drive so no one sees the two women groping themselves in the car,” she teased, still giggling, and Poppy threw her a wicked smirk while waggling her eyebrows.

“One should be so lucky to see two beautiful women groping their stunning bodies in broad daylight in the middle of a busy intersection,” Poppy said with a little shimmy.

Hera burst out laughing again as her friend duck-faced and grabbed her chest like she would a pair of maracas.

A car honked behind them, making them both erupt into giggles, and Poppy resumed her drive.

“Feel better?” her friend asked, blue eyes alight with her laughter, and Hera felt her heart swell with affection for the woman.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied honestly, watching Poppy preen, and the rest of the ride was spent in light conversation and giggles.

They pulled in front of Hera’s apartment a few moments later, Poppy leaving the car in idle as she waited for Hera to climb out of her seat, and the young woman smoothed out her dress using the open door as cover. The cold air bit at any exposed skin, making her shiver, and she thought of her soft pajamas waiting for her. Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood, and she glanced over her shoulder with a frown. Her hair whipped across her face, making her scowl and smooth it back with her hand as her eyes darted around, and spotted a tall blond man across the street walk around a corner.

Any air in her lungs froze, her heart stopping before pounding in her chest, and her eyes widened. The man was dressed in jeans that hugged his long legs obscenely, a simple white t-shirt that seemed to cling to tight pectorals, and a brown leather jacket that stretched across broad shoulders. Messy golden blond hair shined in the bright sun, a sharp jawline twitched as if he was grinding his teeth, and blue eyes eventually landed on her. Bright blue eyes that were the exact same shade as the ones she remembered boring into as her as she pressed kisses along the broad expanse of his naked chest.

It was the man from the bar, Captain America himself.

“Son of a _fuck_!” she yelped before launching herself back into the car and slamming the door shut, “go!”.

Poppy looked at her with wide startled eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, voice going high with panic, but Hera’s eyes were trained on the man across the street.

He was staring right at her, eyes narrowed, and he began to walk forward. Panic surged through her and she smacked Poppy repeatedly on the arm.

“Drive, bitch, drive!” she shrieked and her friend, bless her heart, immediately slammed her foot on the gas.

The tires squealed, matching in pitch with their screams, and they were off like a shot. Hera twisted in her seat to glance behind them and saw the man standing in the middle of the street with his hands braced on his hips.

“What happened?” her friend shouted, eyes wide, and they swerved around traffic.

Hera’s heart was thumping in her chest almost painfully, panic making her gasp for breath as she shrank against her seat, and her mind was racing.

“That was him! Oh God, that was him,” she gasped out, her nails digging into the black leather of her seat, and Poppy spared her a shocked look.

“How does he know where I live?” Hera continued, thinking back to the morning where she snuck away from him, but her scattered thoughts made it difficult to concentrate.

“What? That was him?” her friend asked, hands tight on the steering wheel, and Hera nodded frantically while staring unblinking as buildings passed by in a blur and she distantly heard car horns blaring at them.

She was pretty sure they were breaking several traffic laws.

“I don’t believe you,” Poppy continued, voice quiet, and the young woman glanced over with a glare.

“I think I would remember his face,” she responded, a little miffed, and received a strained laugh.

“No, I _can’t_ believe it. You actually nailed and bailed _Captain America,_” she said, voice filled with awe, and Hera felt her heart skip a beat.

“That isn’t…it wasn’t like that…,” she said haltingly, peering over at her friend, and the woman just shook her head with a laugh.

“I’m actually a little jealous right now,” Poppy murmured, eyeing her, and Hera’s brain now grasped exactly how _much _shit she was in.

She slumped against her seat as her eyes widened with shock.

“I had a one-night stand with an Avenger…holy _shit_, I’ve _slept _with Captain America,” she muttered and Poppy gave her a considering glance.

“So, uh, you _sure_ you don’t remember anything?” she asked, voice airy and curious, and Hera only had enough energy to pinch her friend’s arm.

Poppy’s grumble was drowned out by the blood roaring in her ears.

After driving around for a bit, Poppy stopped by a fast food place, and they sat in an abandoned parking lot to eat. Hera could only nibble on her fries.

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered, the fifth time in the last ten minutes, and her friend looked at her with concern.

She swallowed her bite of hamburger and dabbed at her mouth with a crumpled napkin.

“It’s not so bad,” she began, offering a hesitant smile, and Hera narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“I had a one-night stand with a complete stranger after getting nearly drunk for the first time in _years_, ran away before he woke up to see the mistake he made, and now I find out that he knows where I live because he is Captain-_fucking_-America,” she said, voice rising as the reality of her situation sank in, and she quickly blinked away the stinging in her eyes.

Poppy stayed silent.

“I am so out of my depth and it doesn’t help that there are _pictures_,” she continued, picking at her now cold food, and silence stretched between them.

“What am I going to tell River?” she suddenly asked, horror and dread making her blood run cold, and she tangled her free hand in her long hair.

Her daughter was only six years old, acted like she had the soul of a geriatric person at times, but was still way too young understand exactly how _bad _Hera has screwed them both over.

“I’m setting such a great example,” she murmured to no one in particular.

Hera was thankful that at least her kid didn’t see how freaked out she was that morning, spending the night with her friends from school, but came back the next day with wide curious eyes as Hera all but stayed attached to her.

“You are a young, single, mother who would move mountains and commit several felonies for her kid. You are doing great and she knows that,” Poppy said softly, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

Hera blinked away her tears.

“I guess the best thing for you to do is go face the music,” her friend eventually murmured, blue eyes somber, and Hera felt her heart lurch painfully in her chest.

She was used to being rejected, usually expected it, but now she found herself dreading it.

_‘He can’t reject you if you never see him,’ _her brain supplied and the image of her hiding out in some small village surrounded by goats flashed across her mind.

_‘Ah, yes. Let me become a hermit somewhere to avoid conflict,’ _she thought, something bitter slithering in her chest, and she let her head fall back against her seat.

_‘At least River likes goats,’ _she thought dimly, imaging her six-year-old chasing after farm animals in the middle of nowhere.

Unfortunately, she knew her friend was right.

“Let me hide just a little longer, Lollipop” she said softly, rolling her head to the side to stare at the woman next to her, and received a soft smile.

They spent the next few hours driving around, allowing Hera to slowly gather her courage, and the sun had long since set when they arrived back to Hera’s apartment. Immediately, she was on high alert, her eyes darting around as if expecting the man to drop out of the sky. It was another ten minutes of waiting before she finally unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Do you want me to go up there with you?” Poppy asked, face twisting into something protective, and Hera couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll be okay,” she said while slinging her knapsack over her shoulder, opening the door after taking a deep breath, and the freezing wind stung her face as she stood from the car.

She looked up into the dark windows of her apartment, feeling a surge of panic, and she leaned down to look at her friend from the window.

“Just, uh, maybe keep you phone on you?” she asked, voice brittle, and Poppy reached over to grab her hand.

“Of course. Call me and I’ll already be outside,” she teased, but Hera could see the concern and truth shining in her eyes.

They bid each other goodnight with a tight hug through the window, the young woman quickly running inside her building, half expecting to be pulled into the shadows, but once inside she felt her shoulders relax.

“How lucky would he have to be to know _exactly_ where I lived?” she mumbled to herself, climbing her stairs with her black leather bag clutched tightly over her shoulder.

With each step she grew more comfortable, realizing that she was letting her imagination get the best of her, and decided that fate was going to be in her favor tonight. She walked into her apartment, wincing at the loud screech of the hinges, and quickly locked the door behind her. The moonlight filtering in through the cracks of her curtains cast her home in half silvery light and the other in pitch darkness and she was at once both relieved and sad her daughter was at _another_ sleepover.

Familiarity with her surroundings had her navigating towards her kitchen table to deposit her knapsack. Her boots thudded against the thin carpet as she unzipped them, tucking them underneath her table, and wiggled her sore toes with a sigh of satisfaction. She turned to walk to her bedroom, already picturing a hot shower and snuggling down into her bed, when something caught her eye. A piece of paper had been slipped under her door. She gingerly picked it up, frowning as a sense of foreboding filled her, and thought back to the man standing in the middle of the street scowling after her. Hera tried to ignore the way her hand trembled as she glanced over the phone number scrawled on top. She flipped the paper over and let her eyes scan the simple, yet earthshattering message.

_‘We need to talk, sweetheart.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at this-red-in-my-ledger :)


	3. Chapter 3

"Still haven't done anything about your love letter?" Poppy asked, stealing Hera's last French fry and munching loudly, all while staring at her with wide eyes.

Hera glared while leaning back in the hard chair at the fast food restaurant they were in.

"It's not a love letter, Poppy," was all she said, eyes roaming over the indoor playground until she spotted River going backwards and upside down the slide while laughing manically.

Her long black hair was coming loose from the simple braid Hera had pulled it into and her slate gray trapeze dress was wrinkled and twisted as she vaulted back up the stairs to use the slide again. Hera was glad she had the foresight to make her put on a pair of black leggings.

"Has anything else happened?" Poppy continued, settling back into her own chair, and stared at her curiously as she slurped loudly from her cup. It had been four days since Hera found the note under her door and those days had been filled with her looking over her shoulder and not letting River out of her sight.

Poppy even stayed over the second night when Hera finally told her what happened.

"No…, but I keep expecting to be dragged into a van whenever I leave the house," she muttered, drumming her black stiletto nails against the sticky tabletop, and listened as Poppy hummed in thought.

"Have you told River yet?" she asked softly and Hera tensed.

The thought had crossed her mind, her daughter was smart and knew something was different with Hera, but she didn't want to worry her.

"Look, the guy probably wants to tell me that he made a mistake and to ignore everything. Which I totally agree with, so no need to get in contact," she explained simply, shifting in her seat as her friend stared at her, and she glared at the look she received.

"What if you are completely wrong and he wants to make it work?" she asked, tapping her short metallic blue nails against the table to match Hera's rhythm, and her blue eyes were thoughtful.

"Tough luck. That's not what I'm offering," she responded, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest at the thought of never seeing the man again, and felt a spark of irritation directed at herself.

She had decided to not pursue the man, now she was getting sad at the thought of never seeing him, despite the dim likelihood of them _actually_ managing a relationship.

"You know that isn't going to be as easy as your saying, right? He seems like the person to not let something go…and he did call you _'sweetheart'_," her friend said, arching a blue brow, and Hera felt her already tense shoulders go rigid.

"Tough. Luck," she repeated with a glare before standing up to gather their trash.

"I have to get back to work, Lollipop," she said stiffly and her friend sighed as she stood up.

"I got this, go get your kid," she said and Hera gave a small thankful smile to her friend.

Poppy shooed her, an easy grin on her face, and Hera forced herself to relax as she walked into the indoor playground.

"Come on, Guppy! I got to get back to work," she called, already collecting her daughter's white and yellow plaid rainboots from the floor, before watching as River slid down the slide with a small pout.

"Do you have to go back?" she asked with her dark eyes, so much like Hera's own, peering up at her in a way that Hera almost said, _'screw it'_ and climb in the slide with her.

"Unfortunately, I do," she replied, wagging the shoes at River, until she sighed and trudged over to her and plopped on the ground to pull them on.

"Poppy is going to take you to her place until I get off work," Hera said, smoothing out River's dress as she stood, and her face immediately brightened at her words.

"Can we watch movies?" she asked excitedly, wrapping both small hands around Hera's and swung it back and forth.

Hera quirked an eyebrow as she led them out of the play area.

"That's up to Poppy, Gup. Maybe she'll let you if you ask nicely," she responded before River turned to scan the room until she spotted Poppy leaning against the exit door.

Poppy's white sweater, light wash jeans with ripped holes in the knees, and simple gray suede ankle boots were a stark contrast to her loose dark blue hair swaying at her shoulders. Her stylish smoky eye makeup and dark lipstick made a few people turn their heads as they walked past her, but she just gave them a passing wink as she waited on Hera.

"Can we watch movies, please?" River shouted, making a few people turn to look at them, but Hera just snorted in amusement.

Poppy grinned, her lip piercing catching the light, and she pumped her fist in the air.

"Absolutely, little fish!" she responded just as loudly and Hera couldn't help but to laugh as River promptly launched herself at her friend's legs.

"First let's get your mama to work, then we can gorge ourselves with popcorn," she said conspiratorially and Hera frowned at her friend as they walked out.

"We _just _ate, Poppy," she grumbled, removing her maroon scarf to wrap around River as the cool air whipped around them.

River immediately wrapped the scarf around her arms and middle like some sort of sash.

"Later, of course," her friend responded easily as she helped get River strapped in the backseat, Hera not missing the wink she shot her, and Hera rolled her eyes as she slipped into the passenger side.

"Don't ruin her dinner," was all she said, glaring playfully at Poppy as she buckled herself into the car.

It was a short drive to Hera's work, a minimart that tried it's best to compete with the bigger store chains taking over the block, and she waisted a good three minutes kissing all over River's face and getting a promise from Poppy that she wouldn't let her out of her sight.

"You know I love you, right?" Hera asked River, wiping her red lipstick off her daughter's grinning face, and received a peck to her own cheek.

"Yes, mommy. I love you, too," she responded as she wrapped Hera's scarf more firmly around herself, and Hera smiled softly as warmth filled her chest at her daughter's words.

"Pound it, bro," she said, lifting her fist, and River grinned broadly as she knocked her own tiny fist against Hera's.

she gave her one last kiss, confirming what time she got off work with Poppy, and shut the car door firmly.

She watched as they speed off, a little hand waving from the backseat, before she ducked inside to escape the cold. It had only been two hours since she arrived, enough to get ogled by customers and glared at by a few co-workers, before she was called into the back office. Hera frowned at the announcement, excusing herself from the old man that had cornered her at her register, and slowly walked to the back. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, the feeling of eyes watching her making her look around nervously, but she couldn't pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. The aisles were mostly deserted, few people wanting to face the cold at such a late hour, and she kept her eyes glued to every aisle she passed. Her brain was suddenly filled with images of the SWAT bursting through the aisles and tackling her to the ground. She nearly throat-punched a random customer that meandered out from the aisle she turned down, the old man squinting at her when she smiled awkwardly at him, and she placed a hand over her pounding heart as she quickly resumed her walk.

The echo from her red suede knee-high boots was loud in the small hallway she eventually arrived at, the tiles stained with years of grime that never seemed to wash away, and she nervously wiped her hands over her dark skinny jeans. Her boss poked his head out of his small office and his watery brown eyes leveled on her. His thin brown hair, styled in an obvious comb-over, was sticking up from its previous gelled position and she idly wondered what happened to it. She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her chest and hips, his thin face turning blotchy with a blush, but she bit her tongue as he frantically waved her over.

"Ms. Noon, you are needed for an urgent matter," he stated once she was close.

She held up her finger and pointed her long black nail at him.

"I'm not cleaning the Men's room, Lewis," she said sternly and watched as he went cross-eyed trying to stare at her finger.

The man chuckled nervously while shaking his head and she slowly crossed her arms over her chest.

The bitter smell of tobacco wafting from him made her eyes sting but she stood her ground as he smoothed out his green checkered tie and moved closer. She noted the mustard stain but didn't say anything as he straightened his slim hunched shoulders.

"We have a customer, that asked for you specifically, that needs help with a few of their purchases," he stated, a smile curling his thin lips, and she felt unease sweep over her.

"We don't do personalized shopping," she said slowly, fear creeping up her spine, and she tried to ignore the way her palms started to sweat.

Lewis narrowed his eyes.

"I made an exception. Now, do whatever the man needs, and I don't want to hear any sass from you. Treat him with the _best _customer service," he ordered, but her pounding heart was making it a little hard to hear.

'_Could it be...' _she wondered, stuffing her hands into the small pockets of her jeans, and swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.

"If I refuse?" she asked, feeling sick as he narrowed his eyes on her, and she felt herself nod stiffly.

"He'll meet you on aisle eight," her boss said, giving her another pointed look, before ducking back into his office.

Hera thought briefly of walking out but decided to act like a grown-up. She did, however, take her time getting to the aisle. She went to the bathroom, fixed up her winged eyeliner, red lipstick, and fluffed out her long black hair she left loose for the day. She straightened the nametag pinned to her loose black turtleneck depicting her name and the name of the store. She made sure she looked as presentable as possible, irritated at herself for trying so hard, before slowly making her way to the meeting point. Of course, the one time she would've appreciated being swarmed by customers, she came across no one.

Reaching the aisle, she slowly poked her head around, but only spotted a handsome black man in front of a shopping cart holding two lamps and looking them over with consideration. She breathed a sigh of relief, letting her dark eyes sweep the area around her, before she plastered on her best _'customer service' _smile.

"Hello? I heard you asked for me?" she asked, making her way over to the man, and forcing herself to relax.

The man looked over, his sharp brown eyes warm as he regarded her, and he gave a bright smile that showed a charming gap between his two front teeth.

"Hello, Ms. Hera," he said while placing the lamps back on the shelf, before reaching out to shake her hand, and she took his hand out of ingrained politeness.

"My name is Sam, I had a friend shop here a while ago, said you helped them, and figured you could probably help me," he said, that relaxing smile still in place, and she racked her brain trying to think of anyone who stood out to her at work the last few weeks.

She came up with no one.

"Oh, well I'm happy to help," she said and the next ten minutes she went around with the mysterious shopper, Sam, and rattled off information about products he picked up.

She couldn't help but to think he looked familiar, but she couldn't quiet place him. As he added things to his cart, she watched him, trying to figure out who he was. He had a laidback way about him, his easy grins and sharp wit making her smile, and she felt herself beginning to relax despite her earlier wariness. They were in the kitchen ware, further back in the store, and she was talking about some gadget in Sam's hand when suddenly she felt someone staring at her. She looked up to see Sam staring over her shoulder, and she immediately felt herself go rigid. Suddenly, she realized why the shopper looked so familiar.

Realization hit her like a truck.

Sam, the _Falcon_ her now helpful brain supplied, had a somewhat apologetic look on his face when he glanced back at her, and she slowly turned to the front of the aisle. Her one-night stand, Steve-_fucking_-Rogers, stood at the entrance of the aisle, seeming to take up the entire room with his presence as he ever-so-slowly inched closer, and she felt her knees go weak. He was wearing a snug black shirt with black slacks showing off his long legs and a black leather jacket that clung to his broad shoulders. His honey blonde hair was swept back from his face, bright blue eyes seeming to bore into her with their intensity, and his plush lips were slightly parted. Hera glared back at Sam, who had the decency to look ashamed, and pointed an accusing finger at his half-filled shopping cart.

"You are going to buy _everything_ in that cart," she gritted out, before turning and jabbing her finger at the much closer man, "and _you_ can fuck off."

Steve's eyebrows shot to his hairline, as if she had surprised him, and she dimly heard Sam stifle a snort of laughter.

"Told you, Steve" he muttered, making the Captain flick his eyes over her shoulder with a small glare before snapping his eyes back to Hera.

As if he couldn't handle looking away from her.

"Hera," was all he said and she felt heat rush over her at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue.

She suppressed her urge to shudder, angry at feeling heat bloom in her face, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"You've got _some_ balls," she spat, feeling something in her chest tighten as he took a small step forward, and she took a step backwards.

"I told you we needed to talk," he said softly, hands upraised as if to show he was unarmed, and she bared her teeth at him in warning.

"I told you to fuck off," she repeated, her heart pounding in her chest as he took another step forward, and she glared at him.

His blue eyes swept over her face, hands still up, and she heard Sam walk further down the aisle as if to give them an illusion of privacy. Steve gave a small shake of his head, mouthing ticking upwards into a small humorless smile, before his eyes lowered to give her a thorough once-over.

"Something very serious happened between us," he said, in that same soft baritone that made her insides melt, and she dug her nails into her arms as she tightened her grip on herself.

"We…I can ignore it. I won't say anything to anybody, and we can pretend nothing happened," she said quickly, her voice a little breathless from her growing panic, and she darted her eyes around him to see if she could probably run past him.

She glanced back at him, his eyes now boring into hers, and his mouth was curled into a small frown.

"We have to talk about it. I don't want to pretend nothing happened," he said simply and she swore her heart skipped a beat in her chest.

It was, at once, the most lovely and terrifying thing she heard.

"Do you mind if we take this somewhere private?" he asked and she realized that she was still at work, no doubt being watched on the security cameras, and glared daggers at the man.

It was a conversation that needed to be in private, her gossip mill coworkers or incognito paparazzi will start snooping around soon, and she gritted her teeth as she looked over her shoulder at Sam.

"I have some things to buy…take your time," he said as he grabbed his cart.

He shot the Avenger a look before he disappeared from the aisle. Hera dragged her hand through her hair, mind racing, before she jerked her chin towards the back wall of the store. She turned on her heel and marched, listening to his quiet footsteps as he followed, as she walked towards the back exit and pushed the doors open.

She didn't bother holding the door open for him. The night air was cold, biting at the exposed skin of her face and slipping through the fabric of her sweater, and she breathed deeply until her lungs burned. She spotted a black Escalade parked in the alleyway, the shiny car no doubt belonging to the man behind her, and she turned again on her heel to glare at him. He was a few steps behind her, still looking at her as if he couldn't bear to look away, and she shifted awkwardly under the intensity of his blue eyes. Her hair got caught in the wind, the long curls dancing across her face, and she once again curled her arms across her middle.

"You never called," Steve said slowly, making her look back at him, and watched as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I was worried about you," he continued, voice soft, and she was irritated when something inside her preened at his words.

"I'm fine," she grunted out, hating how her voice was thick with emotions she didn't want to name, and hooked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

"Why didn't you call?" he asked, voice holding a slight edge of accusation that had her snapping her head up, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

Anger suddenly rushed forward, burning past her panic, and she growled at him.

"You didn't tell me who you were, you obtuse _bastard_!" she spat, jabbing a finger at him, "now, my face is everywhere!"

Steve flushed, high cheekbones turning pink, but his eyes didn't leave her.

"You should have called, or stayed, so we could've talked about it," he said and she felt her body tense in anger as she reeled back to stare at him in shocked fury.

She wondered idly if she looked like a pissed off alley cat.

"I didn't want to talk! It was supposed to be one night only, and then I found out you are _Captain America_ so _hell no_ I wasn't going to talk to you," she nearly shrieked, knowing the words were lies even before they passed her lips, and Steve just looked at her with an odd look in his eyes.

"I think we both know that it wasn't a simple one-night stand. We both felt something," he said calmly, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink, and she couldn't help the responding blush at the memory.

His warm hands smoothing across her, the way his lips brushed against her flushed skin, the way he looked at her as if nothing else was important as she wrapped her naked body tightly around his to prevent him from leaving. Of course, those memories were the clearest, and she hated how the popped in her head. Hated how her body warmed at the phantom touches. Steve stared at her, his pupils dilating as if he could see the desire on her face, and she kicked up her chin stubbornly.

She knew her arousal must've been obvious with the way she caught herself eyeing him, something she hated, but she would be damned if she let herself be ashamed.

"You need to leave," she said calmly, watching as his shoulders slumped in defeat, and she began to walk past him.

His hand shot out and curled around her bicep, firm but not too rough, and she barely bit back her gasp at the quick movement.

"You can't just ignore this," he said lowly, crowding up in her space, and she was momentarily overwhelmed by his presence.

His broad body was pumping out heat, chasing the chill away from her skin, and the spicy scent of his cologne had her head swimming. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, maybe suggest they test out the backseat of his car, and she barely resisted the impulses her brain was throwing at her.

'_Stupid hormonal urges,' _she thought bitterly.

She glanced up at him, way up, until she could see his eyes and her mouth went dry. His bright blue eyes were narrowed at her, his pupils eating up the blue, and his mouth had fallen open slightly as he breathed her in. His handsome face was flushed. It seemed she wasn't the only one fighting against her urges and she felt a surge of female pride at making him lose his legendary cool.

"I have other important things to worry about at the moment," she eventually gritted out, glaring at him, and felt panic start to overwhelm her previous arousal.

'_A little late, but I appreciate it, brain,' _she thought dimly.

"You can't just brush this off, Hera," he said, making her shiver as his warm breath brushed across her face, "this doesn't just affect you."

Her heart began to speed up at his words. He was right, though she loathed to admit it, and she knew she wasn't being fair. But she had other people to think about other than herself.

"I can't do this right now," she said stiffly, and gently tried to tug her arm free, all while adrenaline raced through her veins.

'_Have to leave…have to get away,' _her brain chanted, making her anxiety ratchet up, and she darted her eyes around hoping to find an escape route.

His grip tightened minutely.

"Let you leave so I can track you down again? No, we are going to deal with this like adults," he said, voice firm and grip unyielding, and she felt something inside her snap.

"_I have a daughter to think about, Steve_!" she yelled, yanking her arm harshly out of his grip, and she saw his eyes go wide.

"I have a daughter that I have to take care of and I don't need some…some _stranger_…to come in and ruin our lives," she spat, tears burning her eyes, and she turned away from him as she buried her face in her hands as she tried to fight the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"A…a daughter," Steve said softly after a while of silence, something in his tone she couldn't place, and she dragged her hands through her hair.

"Yes, a daughter. And she is more important than the air I breath. More important than an amazing one-night stand and more important than a stranger I barely know," she said, shaking her head, and wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball in the alleyway.

"So, yes. I am being an adult. I'm putting her needs before my own and I will do it _every…single...time_," she continued, turning back to him, and placed her hands on her flared hips.

Steve was staring off, expression akin to someone getting sucker punched, and she shook her head. Hera suddenly felt exhausted.

"Like I said, I can't do this right now," she muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, and stared at him as he mulled over her words.

"I…understand that you want to protect her…but this is a lifechanging situation and, like you said, you're all over the press," Steve finally said, voice soft and eyes even softer when he looked at her, and she felt tears threaten to spill once more, "We can talk later, but I'm sorry, I'm not going to let this go."

At his words, Hera bit the inside of her cheek as she forced herself _not _to cry. She hated how suddenly she was barely controlling her emotions, blaming it on the last few stressful days, and she shrugged one shoulder sharply. Her face felt frozen from the cold night air, the moon barely picking out from the clouds, and they stood staring at each other.

"You know where to find me," she said tiredly, brushing past him to walk back inside, and she fully expected him to stop her again.

He didn't.


	4. Chapter 4

“Flip it! Flip it! _Flip it_!” Hera shrieked, laughing at her daughter, and tried to salvage the grilled cheese currently burning on the stove.

“Save it, mommy!” River squealed, flapping the spatula around, and Hera barely managed to dodge it to avoid being slapped with it.

River was standing on one of their kitchen chairs, dressed in blue and white striped sleep pants and white long sleeve with a picture of a cartoon narwhale emblazed on the front, while Hera stood behind her to help her make their dinner dressed in her own pajamas. Hera expertly flipped the sandwich over, placing her hand over River’s on the spatula as she did so, and her daughter cheered.

“Okay, it’s almost done. Go sit, Guppy,” she said, placing a kiss on the top of her head, before hooking her hands under her arms to hoist her off the chair without her getting burned on the stove.

River scampered off to the table while Hera plated the sandwich, grabbing her bowl of tomato soup they made earlier, and placed them on the table in front of her daughter. She pumped her fist in the air once Hera handed her a spoon

Hera eyed her as she poured them a glass of milk, careful not to spill it, and smiled at River’s look of intense concentration as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

“The verdict, Madam River?” she asked seriously, placing their cups beside their plates, before finally joining her at table as she dragged the chair from the counter back over to its original spot.

She received a sticky thumbs up.

“Can we eat this the rest of our lives?” she asked, mouth full of cheese, and Hera gave her a stern look.

River looked sheepishly apologetic and Hera dipped her own sandwich into her soup.

“I’ll make as much grilled cheese as you want,” she said, taking a bite out of her own food, before silence stretched between them as they ate.

“What if your boyfriend doesn’t like cheese?” River asked suddenly, making Hera spill her spoonful of tomato soup on her gray sweatpants as it dribbled off her white camisole, and River laughed uproariously at Hera’s bitten off curse.

“What…what makes you say that, Gup?” she asked, dabbing at her shirt and pants with a paper towel, and River finished giggling before shrugging.

“Poppy said you had a boyfriend…what if he doesn’t like cheese? Maybe we can make him a grilled cheese sandwich because we make the best grilled cheese sandwiches,” she rambled, only taking a breath to take a bite out of her food, and Hera already mentally killed Poppy thrice over by the time the little girl stopped talking.

“Mommy doesn’t have a boyfriend,” she began slowly and River looked at her with big dark eyes.

“Why not? Cassandra’s mommy has a boyfriend,” she explained solemnly and Hera resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

_‘Cassandra’s mom has a new boyfriend every week,’ _she thought somewhat bitterly, before taking a small bite of her food as she thought how to answer her daughter.

“I don’t know why Poppy said that, but I don’t have one. You’re all I need,” she said with a warm smile, watching River nod along, before she grabbed another spoonful of soup. “Who was the man in the picture then?” she continued, grabbing her glass with both hands, and Hera spit out her mouthful of soup as she choked on it at her daughter’s words.

_‘I’m going to murder Poppy,’ _she thought, imaging her best friend’s grinning face, and she dabbed at her clothes once again.

“What picture, Gup?” she asked weakly, fully intending on making a phone call after dinner, and River raised her eyebrow.

She looked just like Hera in that instant and the young woman couldn’t help but smile at her.

“The one where you two were hugging,” she replied, as if it was obvious, and Hera frowned before realization dawned on her.

It was the picture had Poppy sent her the morning after her hook-up. Her and Steve were leaving the bar, his arm wrapped around her waist as they stumbled their way to his car, and Hera had been busy running her fingers through his hair and placing kisses on his throat as they walked. Her face burned hotly at the memory, remembering his throaty moans rumbling beneath her lips, and Hera took a gulp out of her drink.

“When can I met him?” River asked, perking up at the possibility of making a new friend, and a surge of panic went through Hera.

“That was…a…friend, but I’m not going to be…seeing him…anymore,” she said haltingly, suddenly losing her appetite, and River peered up at her under her long lashes.

She suddenly looked a lot older as she stared at Hera sharply.

“It’s okay to have friends, mommy. You don’t have to have just me,” she said calmly and Hera suddenly couldn’t breathe.

The thought of being close to someone, having them meet her daughter, had anxiety thrumming through her.

_‘They all leave in the end. Have to save River from that,’ _she thought and gave a tight smile.

“I know, baby. Right now, my focus is on you,” she said, crossing her arms over the table to lean close to River, and her daughter still stared at her.

“You’re allowed to have more friends than just me,” she said and Hera glanced away.

Hera did keep to herself, afraid of getting attached to someone and then them leaving, and she didn’t know if she could handle anyone else leaving her. Poppy was the exception, they had been friends since they were teenagers, Hera freshly kicked out of her home and needing a place to crash, and they had a chance meeting at a gas station that led Hera to crash on her couch for the next few months. She had been there when Hera fell in love and became pregnant, was there when her heart was broken, and held her hand as she went into labor. The fear of going through that heartbreak again was an unbearable thought.

“I bet he gives awesome piggyback rides,” River continued, suddenly sounding like a kid again, and Hera breathed a small sigh of relief.

She tried to ignore the way her fingers trembled as she picked at her food.

The rest of their meal went by in easy conversation, River telling her about her school and her friends, and Hera eventually relaxed. Once dinner was done, them flinging water at each other as they washed their dishes, Hera ushered her daughter into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“You can play for a little bit afterwards, I gotta call someone,” she told her, watching her carefully as River brushed her teeth thoroughly, before grabbing her phone and walking to the living room.

She made sure River was out of earshot before she dialed Poppy’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

“You raggedy bitch,” Hera whispered harshly, not giving Poppy time to say a greeting, and glanced back towards the bathroom.

River skipped out and soon the sound of toys crashing together emitted from her room.

“You told River about…you-know-who?” she hissed and she heard Poppy take a sharp breath.

“_Voldemort_,” she breathed out in a whisper and Hera glared at the ceiling.

“No, you dipstick, and you know what I’m talking about,” she whispered and received a sigh.

“Look, she saw the picture when I was reading up on the article, making sure nobody figured it out that it’s you, and I panicked. The little fish can stare straight into your soul, man,” Poppy explained and Hera couldn’t help but silently agree.

“Why? Did she ask you about him?” she asked, suddenly sounding a lot more invested in their conversation, and Hera rolled her eyes.

It was easy to picture her friend, dressed in baggy trackpants and threadbare t-shirt with a face mask slathered over her face, as she lounged on her back with her blue hair pulled into a messy bun. No doubt she was still looking through articles about Hera’s infamous night out. 

“Yes, she did, but that’s not the point…has anyone found out it was me?” she asked, picking at the soup drying on her pants with her long freshly painted bright red nails.

“Not yet…has he tried to meet up with you again?” Poppy asked, voice whispered, and Hera sighed as she sank into her rickety couch.

It had been almost a week since Steve had found her, a week since their _‘talk’_, and she’s been looking over her shoulder the entire time. She half expected him to show back up at her work, possibly decked out in his _Captain America _uniform, to call her out on her bullshit. She left Steve with a lot to sort through and she knew it didn’t help to avoid him. She’s been seeing on the news everyone’s reaction to the pictures. It seemed like everyone was having a meltdown that the good Captain had a _‘secret scandalous lover’ _without anyone knowing.

She felt sorry for the guy, knowing he must be having a PR nightmare, but she couldn’t find it in herself to reach out to him. Hera rubbed her hand over her face before glancing at the clock with a curse.

“Get the fish tucked in, call me later, and then you can tell me all the salacious details afterwards,” Poppy said, a grin clear in her voice, and Hera couldn’t help but grin back.

They bid each other goodbye, Poppy’s loud kissing noise making Hera roll her eyes with a laugh, before she hung up.

“Okay, Guppy. Time for bed,” she called out as she trudged towards her room, already feeling exhausted, and watched from the doorway as River lined up her stuffed cartoon Loch Ness monster on her small white nightstand.

It was a habit she had, explaining that the toy saved her from bad dreams, and Hera just shook her head in bemusement. River hopped on her bed, burrowing under the deep maroon comforter, and smiled at Hera.

She shook her head with an amused grin and meandered to her daughter’s bed, eyeing the line of stuffed animals on her daughter’s chipped white dressers, and shook her head again.

“All set?” she asked, tucking her into the blankets, and River nodded.

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?” she asked, smoothing her long dark hair out of her face as she watched Hera, and the young woman hooked the curly strands behind her ears.

She thought about how much money she had left, her creepy landlord demanding a raise in rent, and sighed.

“We’ll see,” she said and River nodded solemnly.

Hera felt a pang in her chest, wishing she could do so much more for her daughter, but then River held out her tiny fist.

“Pound it, bro,” she chirped with a large grin and Hera chuckled while knocking their fists together gently.

“Goodnight, River,” she said, placing a kiss on her head, and made sure her small fish-shaped nightlight was plugged in before turning the lights off.

“Love you, mommy,” River said, already rolling over, and Hera felt the back of her eyes sting.

“Love you, too,” she whispered thickly, staring at her daughter’s silhouette, before shutting the door.

Hera went into her bedroom, deciding on changing out of her stained clothes, and quickly rummaged through her small hand-me-down dresser. She finally dug out a light gray camisole and a pair of clean black fleece sweatpants that cinched at the bottom and changed while heading to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed any remaining makeup off, and brushed her long black hair before pulling it into a simple braid. She was heading back to her room, intending on calling Poppy back, when there was a light knock on the door.

Hera frowned, slowly making her way to the door, and wondered if her friend decided on coming by for a midnight visit. She usually called beforehand, so Hera peaked out of the peephole in confusion.

“Son of a bitch,” she hissed as she reeled back.

Steve Rogers was on the other side.

She wondered idly if she could pretend to be asleep, it was late after all, but then he knocked on the door again. Not wanting to risk River waking up, she opened the door while making sure to keep it unlocked and slipped outside.

“Do you know what time it is?” she hissed, turning to glare at him, and shivering as a cold draft bit at the exposed skin of her arms, feet, and face.

He was standing a lot closer than she realized, her chest brushing his when she breathed in sharply, and he took an immediate step back with a small cough.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes widening when she glared at him, before jerking her finger to her lips in the universal language for _‘shh’. _

“If you wake my daughter up, I will strangle you,” she whispered, glaring at him until he nodded, and she gave a curt nod of her head.

She noticed him give her a quick once-over, making her glad she changed her clothes, and she couldn’t help but do the same to him. He was dressed in jeans that hugged his long legs, a white long sleeve that emphasized his well-defined chest obscenely, and a brown leather jacket that hung on his broad shoulders deliciously. She suddenly wanted to wrap her arms around those shoulders and kiss him silly. She pushed those thoughts away, shivering as chills erupted across her skin that had nothing to do with the cold hallway, and leveled an expected look at him.

Steve jerked his eyes upward from where he was obviously staring at her Medusa tattoo, handsome face turning pink, and those plush pink lips curled into a frown. She could only stare as he shrugged off his jacket in a way that was way more erotic than probably intended. He held it out to her. She blinked owlishly up at him, her brain deciding on taking a vacation at that precise moment, and she just stared at him. He sighed, corner of his mouth twisting up in a crooked smile, before he reached over to drape the jacket over her shoulders. Immediately, warmth leached into her skin, and she subconsciously pulled the jacket more securely around her.

“I hope I didn’t wake you…or your daughter,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and Hera peered at him from under her eyelashes.

“I was still awake and…River, my daughter…just went to bed,” she admitted grudgingly deciding his small act of kindness deserved an honest answer.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels, and she squinted at him.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, noticing that his white shirt was a rather thin material, and he gave her another crooked smile.

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured and she threaded her arms the best she could through the jacket.

The buttery leather was warm, very warm, and she shivered again.

“You sure? I feel like my toes are about to fall off,” she griped, eyeing him, and he glanced down at her bare feet.

Her toenails were painted the same bright red as her fingers, the polish making her pale skin look even more white, and she shyly curled her toes into the chilled wooden floors of the hallway as he stared.

“Uh, can I ask why you’re here? And how did you know where I lived?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously, and glanced back up.

His high cheekbones flushed, blue eyes darting away, and she raised her eyebrow.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked softly, looking back at her curiously, and she debated her answer.

“Probably not,” she muttered and he nodded.

“I’ll make this quick, then,” he said as he straightened up and she was struck with the urge, _again_, to climb him.

Steve’s tone was serious, making her own body tense with unease as she registered the unease in his voice, and his words chilled her to the bone.

“There’s been a serious development…I need you and your daughter to come with me to the Avengers facility.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at this-red-in-my-ledger :)


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